In The Assassin's Arms (Daggers 0f Desire Book 1) Page 8

John scooped up his winnings while the men grumbled around him, then rose from the table and stepped out into the lively party. His eyes scanned the crowds for any sign of Charlie. None. Walking casually through each room, he tried to blend in as he searched for her. Several ladies propositioned him, but he politely waved them off while his search continued. Then he noticed the large spiral staircase leading up to Walter’s private rooms. She was up there. He could feel it.

  Waiting for the right moment, he made his way up the stairs, halting at the landing. He scanned the long corridor at the top. Doors were closed on each side, with no sign which one she might be behind... with him. John’s stomach turned at the thought of her touching that man. The man who had betrayed his father. His pace quickened as he walked past all the doors to the last one at the end of the hallway. The master suite. He had to have lured Charlie inside his own bedroom.

  Leaning forward, he pressed his ear to the door. He heard muffled voices. After straining for several seconds, he recognized her voice.

  “Just like that, Mr. Baker. That’s right,” her sultry voice commanded.

  John’s blood whooshed through his veins so quickly he had to grip the doorknob to remain stable. His heart galloped out of control as he twisted the metal handle. No mission was worth allowing that man to touch his Charlotte. He turned the knob and paused while the door creaked open.

  “Oh, you are a feisty one!” Walter laughed, and John’s stomach clenched harder. He crept around the corner and stared. Charlie had Walter propped up in the bed, fully clothed. His hands and legs were each secured to one post of the bed. “Now you have me where you want me. Take off that dress,” he panted.

  “John, should I take off my dress?” she asked, without turning around to acknowledge him while she strode around the bed like a shark circling its wounded prey, smelling blood in the water.

  “John?” Walter asked in confusion, “Who the hell is John? My name is Walter.”

  “Well? John?”

  “I say no,” John said, stepping forward into the light.

  “Who goes there? What is the meaning of this?” Walter demanded, struggling against the scarves securing him to the bed.

  “You don’t recognize me, do you, Walter?” John asked, moving up next to Charlie.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” Walter asked, and he gave up the fight.

  “Who am I, Charlie? And what do I want?” John tipped his head and looked at her.

  “He is John Wesley Douglas, son of Robert Douglas. What he wants is to know who paid you to disappear all those years ago. What I want to know is who killed my father.” She lifted her leg and pressed it onto the edge of the bed. Walter’s eyes widened when she slowly lifted her skirt, revealing her ivory leg, one inch at a time. Reaching her thigh, she slid a dagger from the black, lacey garter that was strapped tightly around it. With one breath, she had it pressed up against his throat.

  “Talk,” she demanded.

  John stared at Charlie in admiration. She had done it. Effortlessly. He had never wanted a woman more than he wanted this one. In fact, he had never wanted anything more than he wanted Charlie.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “CAT GOT YOUR TONGUE?” Charlie taunted Walter as she leaned down into his face. His little pants grew faster and she could smell the booze on his breath.

  “John, I... I can’t believe it’s you,” Walter stammered while he studied John’s face. “I haven’t seen you since—”

  “Since you betrayed my father, took a bribe, and ran off?” John stepped forward, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword. Charlie could feel the anger radiating off him.

  “You don’t understand. I had no choice.”

  “You had no choice? With which part? The part where you spied on my family, and sent everything to her father? The part where you betrayed my father? Why did you do it, Walter? He loved you like family.”

  Walter’s face fell and his eyes welled up with tears. “Those were hard times and I was young, John. My mother was sick, and I needed money. I couldn’t ask your father for more; he had already given me so much. When I was approached with a bag full of gold, just to detail a few of your father’s movements, I took it. I’m so ashamed, but I did. They promised me he was not in any danger.”

  “You’d rather betray him than ask him for a loan to help your sick mother? My father is a good man. He would have given you that money,” John snapped.

  Charlie could see how protective John was of Robert. Maybe I’ve got it all wrong, she thought.

  “I know, John. I know. I was young. I was stupid and proud. I didn’t want to ask him for more. I know he would have helped me. I was in too deep and I got a letter telling me they knew what I was up to. They threatened me. My mother, John. They threatened my mother! They demanded I tell them who I was corresponding with. I told them, and they paid me a great deal of money to leave. I did. I grabbed my mother and left that night.”

  “Who was it, Walter? Who paid you to give up the name of the man you were corresponding with?” Charlie surged forward, her eyes boring into his, her dagger pressing into his weathered skin. This would be the name of the man who had most likely killed her father. She held her breath while his lips began to form a word.

  Charlie heard a snap and ducked right. A dagger flew through the air where her head had just been, and landed squarely between Walter’s eyes, killing him before he could even take a breath. Charlie whirled around to see John drawing his sword, a man dressed in finery standing ready at the door.

  “What the hell?” Charlie lunged onto the bed, her dagger gripped tightly in her hand as she sized the man up. He was smaller than John, but diminutive stature usually meant speed. The man lunged toward John, nearly nicking him. He deflected the blow and sidestepped away from immediate danger. Swords clashed as they battled, an even match of skill. Charlie waited for her moment and prepared her dagger as the two men spun and twirled, never giving her a clear shot.

  “John! Down!” she shouted. He didn’t hesitate and hit the floor before the complete word had left her mouth. Charlie’s dagger sailed through the air and landed in the intruder’s neck. John lunged forward and pierced through his torso with ease. The assassin slumped to the ground at the foot of the bed.

  “They found us.” John wiped the blood off his sword and slipped it back into its sheath.

  “I didn’t get the name,” Charlie said, standing over the dead body. She had been so close. The dagger meant for her had ripped away any chance of finding out the name of her father’s killer.

  “We’ll figure it out, Charlie. We will.” The look in John’s eyes saying everything. Meaning everything, even those things that fell unspoken between them. He would help her find her father’s killer.

  “If there was one, there are bound to be more. We need to move. Now.” John didn’t mince words and grabbed her by the arm. Charlie looked back at Walter Baker, and the answers he’d taken with him to the grave.

  He hurried her into the hallway, eyes darting every which way for any sign of movement or threat. “Look natural.”

  She nodded and straightened her back as she stepped back into the role of a high-class prostitute. They stepped down the stairs in sync, both looking unassuming as they scanned the room below. The music blared as the women danced unabashedly with the men. This was no proper ballroom, and the drinks and music had caused everyone to shed a few inhibitions.

  Charlie squeezed John’s elbow. Through the crowd of drunken revelers, she noticed someone following them down the stairs. He stared at them, but not in awe of her beauty or his good looks as the others had been. Those eyes held in them nothing but malice.

  “John...”

  “Our nine o’clock. I see him. Just act natural. We need to blend in and make our way to the door. Once we get outside, we need to hightail it to the stables and ride like the fires of hell are pushing us forward.”

  Charlie smiled and curtsied as they reached the bottom of the stairs. John bowed, following
her lead as she spun him out onto the dancefloor. He placed his hand at the small of her back and pulled her into his arms, flattening her breasts against his solid chest. She gasped when she collided with him, following his steps as he spun her around. She watched the assassin moving through the crowd from the corner of her eye, while at the same time fixating on John as he gazed down at her.

  They moved in harmony as the other couples danced and laughed. Charlie was aware of every movement and every sound around her, yet she felt totally alone on the dancefloor with John. Their gazes never wavered as he twirled her and dipped her, moving her closer and closer to the exit with each movement. The music stopped, and he dipped her backward. The band leader stepped forward.

  “Go on now! Kiss those girls!” he shouted. “Don’t be shy! Nothing is forbidden in this merry home!”

  The men whooped and hollered, dipping the women and kissing them while the onlookers cheered on. Charlie lay still in John’s arms, his eyes moving to her parted lips and then back, their piercing depths mirroring her own raging desire.

  She felt her breath catch in her throat as he leaned down and covered her mouth with his own. His tongue slid past her lips and she met his passion equally, her hands clasping around his neck. Her skin tingled and heat radiated through every inch of her body as she melted into him, giving in to the pull she had felt toward him since that very first time. He devoured her, and she let him, submitting to him right there on the dancefloor for everyone to see.

  “That’s how we do things at Walter Baker’s!” the band leader shouted, and the music kicked back up. Everyone cheered as the couples broke off from their brazen kisses and the dancing began again. Charlie felt a pang of regret when John’s kiss softened, his lips slowly pulling away from hers. As they broke apart, she gazed up into his eyes. There was no taunting or teasing there. There was nothing but desire. She recognized it because she felt it, too.

  “We need to move,” he whispered, staring down at her. Charlie could only nod. He lifted her back to her feet and spun her around again, inching them closer to the exit. Her head swirled, but not from the spinning and the dancing.

  “Now. Go.” John grabbed her hand and they hurried off the dancefloor. Charlie glanced back to where the assassin had been standing, but saw nothing but an empty space. She looked toward the exit and took another step, colliding with a man who had stepped out from behind the pillar. The assassin.

  He grabbed her arm. She could feel the dagger he discreetly held to her ribs, pressing through the thin fabric of her dress. John lurched forward but Charlie stayed him with a pleading look. The three of them stood in the parlor, looking like three old friends catching up.

  “You will do as I say. Understood?”

  She nodded.

  “We will walk out of here together. I don’t want to make a scene and alert the authorities, but I will if I have to. Understood?”

  Charlie glanced up at John and they took a step toward the door. A quick glance around and she could tell that alcohol and lust had everyone blind to the danger staring her straight in the face. With one swift move, she freed the dagger she’d concealed beneath her sleeve. It dropped into her hand, and she plunged into the heart of the assassin at her side. John hopped to his other side in two strides as the life passed out of the man, causing his knees to buckle. They slung his arms around their shoulders and walked on, his feet dragging behind them.

  Charlie laughed loudly while John stumbled around as they caught the doorman’s attention.

  “I thought you said I was going to get two of you tonight,” Charlie cackled as they continued to make their escape. “If this one doesn’t wake up soon, it looks like I’ll be stuck with just one lover.”

  “I’ll be enough to make you feel like there are three men in that bed!” John declared as they kept on moving.

  “Now that’s something I can look forward to!” Charlie giggled, and looked up at the doorman as they passed by, dragging the dead body along with them. “Goodnight, sir! I’ll see you again tomorrow night!”

  He looked at them and nodded when they continued down the steps and around the corner. The moment they were out of sight, they tossed the body in the nearby bushes without a word and took off down the dark street at a sprint.

  “Where is Duchess?” John asked between strides.

  “Stable on the west side.”

  “Duke is by the inn. I need to grab my things from the room. I’ll meet you at the top of the hill where we parted this morning.”

  Charlie nodded and veered left, down an alley toward the stables. She found her bag and tack and was saddled up and racing out of town before she even had a moment to think about what had just happened. She galloped to the top of the hill where she saw the silhouette of John and Duke waiting for her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked as she cantered up.

  “Yes. We’re fine. We need to disappear.”

  “Follow me.”

  She didn’t even ask where he was going. They disappeared into the woods and cantered along until there were no sounds but the chirping of crickets, and no lights but the glow of the full moon above them.

  “We should rest. Regroup.” John pulled Duke to a halt in a small clearing near a stream.

  Charlie pulled up Duchess and slid off, her feet hitting the hard ground. They led the horses to the stream where they all took long drinks of the cool, clear water.

  “Well, that was unexpected,” he said with a chuckle.

  “It’s not funny!” Charlie argued. “He most likely knew who killed my father!”

  “Possibly.”

  “Yes. Possibly. Likely. We’ll never know now.”

  “We won’t, so there isn’t any sense in fretting over it.”

  “I’m not fretting. I’m angry.”

  John laughed as he untacked Duke and flopped down on his back.

  “No fire tonight?” she asked, sitting down beside him.

  “I think it’s safest if we skip it, don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, you’re probably right.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you warm.” He smiled and slid his arm around her shoulder.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Keeping you warm. What does it look like?”

  “I’m not going to kiss you again, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  John shook his head and chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” she said, snapping her annoyance at his continued teasing.

  “You are.”

  “How so?” she demanded. She’d never wanted to slap a man more than in this moment. How could he be so cavalier about being thwarted tonight?

  “You’re so cold, so shut down. You kissed me not even an hour ago and now you’re back to...”

  “What?” She glared.

  “You’re back to... frigid.”

  “I’m not frigid.”

  “Yes. You are. You’re so shut down, Charlie. Why did you kiss me back there if you didn’t mean it?”

  “I was putting on a show to keep our cover, obviously.” She couldn’t stop the lies from coming out of her mouth, even though she wanted to admit to him she had meant it.

  “Yes. For the mission. My mistake. I’m sorry, I thought you might have actually, I don’t know, felt something.”

  “I feel things all the time, John. Don’t act like you know me.”

  “I don’t know you, Charlie. At all! I wish I did. I wish you would open up... just a little!”

  “Why? So you can betray me? Leave me? Break my heart? I don’t think so, John. I’m not some stupid little girl with a crush on the rich boy on the estate anymore. I’ve grown up.”

  “Well, that’s too bad, Charlie. The girl I knew, Charlotte, she was kind and sweet, funny even. I had a crush on her, too.”

  She fell silent, struggling underneath the implications of that admission. She hadn’t known John had a crush on her. She never would have imagined someone like him would fall for someone like her.


  “Charlotte died, John. She died the day her father was murdered, and she was forced to live with her cruel family, who treated her no better than a slave. She died when she gave herself over to avenging her father and the life that fate had wrested from her. Your Charlotte? She’s gone.”

  She fell back and rested her head on her folded arms. John sat silently beside her.

  “So you feel nothing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “That’s too bad. Even though it started as a ruse, I felt something when we kissed, Charlie. I just wish you’d admit it.”

  “Nothing.” She couldn’t stop herself. Inside she screamed that the kiss had meant something, that she wanted another one. She’d been fighting everything, and everyone, for so long she couldn’t stop fighting, even when it meant she lost the one thing she wanted.

  John peered over his shoulder at her, and then settled back down beside her. They lay there, side by side, staring up at the stars.

  “Do you remember doing this when we were kids?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I do. We used to run into the horse pasture and lie there for hours, counting stars.”

  “Do you remember what we used to do when we saw a falling star?”

  Charlie smiled. “Whoever saw it first punched the other in the shoulder and said: ‘It wasn’t me, it was the star that hit you.’”

  He laughed and glanced over at her. “What the hell were we even thinking?”

  She shrugged and giggled. “What a stupid saying.”

  “It sounded clever when we were children.”

  She took a breath and felt her anger release. He had quite a calming effect on her. Soon after, a white-hot blaze streaked across the black sky. Almost in unison, they gasped and punched each other in the shoulder.

  “It wasn’t me! It was the star that hit you!” Charlie burst into laughter with John right after her.

  “I saw it first!” she shouted.

  “Did not! I did!” John fought back, rolling over and punching her lightly in the shoulder again before tickling her sides. Charlie roared with laughter as she fought him off, rolling over on top of him. She straddled him while she pinned down his arms, returning the tickles while he squirmed and gasped for breath.